A Figgis Agency Thanksgiving
by Red Witch
Summary: The gang celebrate Thanksgiving. Be thankful your holiday isn't spent with these idiots.


**A turkey made off with the disclaimer telling you that I own any Archer characters. More wild adventures the gang had when Archer was in a coma. Here's a fun fic with a holiday theme. And how these people completely destroy it.**

 **A Figgis Agency Thanksgiving **

"All right Nerf Nuts!" Pam called out in the breakroom. "I'm calling a meeting!"

"Pam," Cyril sighed as he drank some coffee. "I'm the head of the Figgis Agency. **I** call the meetings around here!"

"Since _when?_ " Ray gave him a look. He was drinking some coffee as well at the table.

"Since…shut up!" Cyril snapped.

"You shut up!" Cheryl said as she ate some glue.

"All of **you** shut up!" Krieger snapped. They looked at him. "What? I wanted to be part of the conversation!"

"Look," Pam said. "Since Lana is taking the kid off to her parents for Thanksgiving. Ms. Archer is hanging around Archer's hospital room for Thanksgiving. Ron is visiting someone back in New York for Thanksgiving. And there is no way in hell I'm going home for Thanksgiving why don't we all get together tomorrow and have Thanksgiving at Cheryl's place? I'm cooking! With help from you Ray…"

"You want me to make my mother's famous Sweet Potato Pie and cornbread dressing, don't you?" Ray asked. "You know what? I'm in!"

"Me too!" Krieger cheered. "What can I bring?"

"Antacids," Pam said. "Lots of them. And some booze."

"Got it!" Krieger grinned.

"Don't bring Piggly," Pam warned.

"No problem," Krieger shrugged. "He can be such a ham. Get it?"

"Remind me to **give it** to you one of these days," Cyril grumbled. "And Pam how did you get Cheryl to let you throw a Thanksgiving dinner at her place?"

"A," Cheryl spoke up. "It was either do this with Pam or go to my stupid brother's place with his stupid girlfriend Tiffy and/or all my stupid relatives that aren't in a coma or dead. B, Pam promised me all the glue I could eat. And C…Well…"

"I think you can just leave C up to our imaginations," Ray interrupted.

"Please do…" Cyril groaned.

"So Fig Man are you in?" Pam asked.

"Why not?" Cyril shrugged. "A Thanksgiving without Archer sounds like a treat. Not like I want to spend another holiday sitting at a table listening to my father being disappointed in me."

"Okay! So it's settled!" Pam said. "Krieger you bring antacids and alcohol. Ray, bring the ingredients for your sweet potato pie, the dressing and alcohol. Cyril, you're in charge of desserts. All the pies. Pumpkin, apple, peach…"

"Cherry!" Ray added. "Phrasing!"

"Chocolate…And more alcohol," Pam said. "Cheryl…"

Cheryl was giggling as she ate some glue. Pam sighed. "Just try not to overdose and die."

"Okey Dokey Chokey!" Cheryl grinned. "C is for Choke…"

"NO!" Cyril, Krieger and Ray shouted at the same time.

"Sex. Choke sex," Cheryl grinned.

"Ughhh…" The guys groaned.

"Oh like you haven't done it!" Pam snapped.

"Oh right," Cyril remembered.

"Ehhh yeah," Krieger nodded.

"Not me!" Ray snapped.

"You don't have to have sex with me!" Cheryl said annoyed. "Just choke me!"

"Trust me honey," Ray gave her a look. "One day **I will!"**

"Tease!" Cheryl taunted.

"Guys come on," Pam said. "Since none of us have any real family…Or the family we do have are mostly selfish rat bastards…This will be a good bonding experience for us. Like a Hallmark movie. So let's have the best damn Thanksgiving ever!"

"It is kind of a shame that Lana won't be there," Cyril sighed. "Or even Archer. Archer just lying alone in his coma. His brain getting more damaged every day. Being fed through a tube and pissing through a tube. After a lifetime of screwing around and with literally everyone he ever met he ends up alone. All alone and forgotten."

Cyril brightened up. "This is going to be the best Thanksgiving **ever**!"

"Cyril," Ray sighed. "Let me explain what a Hallmark movie is. Because obviously you don't have **a clue!"**

"Since when does Cyril **ever** have a clue?" Pam quipped.

"You know…?" Cyril gave Pam a look.

The following day at a beautiful beach house in Malibu…

"This really is a beautiful house," Cyril said as he sat on a nice couch with a glass of scotch in his hand. "I didn't know you had a place like this."

"This is just one of many houses I own," Cheryl shrugged as she drank on another couch. "By the way, don't tell Ms. Archer, Archer or Lana."

"My lips are figuratively sealed," Cyril said. "Wow there's even a chandelier in the dining room. Classy."

"This is just a place Cheryl and I hang out when we want to get away from it all," Pam grinned as she poured herself a drink. "Ray how's that stuffing coming?"

"It's not stuffing if it's cooked **outside** the bird," Ray called out from the kitchen. "And I thought you'd be cooking too!"

"Keep your panties on," Pam called out. "Mar-Ray Berry! I'm coming! Just as soon as I finish this drink."

She then took a sip of her drink and then poured herself another one before it was empty. "Ooops. Still full!"

"I'll help!" Cyril downed his glass and went into kitchen.

He found Ray cooking up a storm, surrounded by boiling pots and food of all tempting varieties. He was wearing a white apron saying KISS THE COOK over his casual clothes.

"Wow," Cyril blinked. "There's a lot of food in here."

"Some of it I did last night," Ray said.

"Wait, where's the turkey?" Cyril asked. "And for once I don't mean Archer. Shouldn't it be in the oven?"

"Pam insisted on frying the turkey this year," Ray explained. "Said that Krieger would bring a turkey as well as some kind of super deep fryer."

"That sounds like an accident waiting to happen," Cyril quipped. "Or knowing Krieger some kind of weird sexual assault incident."

"Which I why I am loading up on the sides," Ray pointed out. "My Mama's Sweet Potato Pie with marshmallows, special cornbread dressing, homemade cranberry sauce, green bean casserole with almonds, a cheese and meat platter, vegetable platter with two kinds of dips…"

"You mean Cheryl and Pam," Cyril quipped. "Hey-O!"

"Good one," Ray nodded.

"Well I brought the pies," Cyril said. "They're out in the dining room. And some wine. And a bottle of Glengoolie Blue I stole from Archer's desk."

"When the asshole is away…" Ray remarked. "Cyril do me a solid and help me cut up some more celery?"

"No problem," Cyril said. "I am pretty good when it comes to chopping things."

"Everybody knows about Stir Fry-Day," Ray quipped. "To be fair you are better at it than Archer."

"A drunken lemur is better than Archer when it comes to cooking," Cyril told him as he chopped.

"Oh yeah," Ray remembered. "That was a weird Valentine's Day party."

"All our parties are weird," Cyril said as he chopped. "But I think with Archer out cold this time our party might not get so out of hand."

"Never say never," Ray shrugged. "Then again Archer did do a pretty good job with that sheep's head dish when we did that restaurant thing."

"With the Albanian Ambassador dying and us getting blackballed from the State Department?" Cyril asked. "After we got berated and attacked by an abusive assassin chef?"

"Comparatively Archer's cooking was the least of our disasters on that mission," Ray shrugged.

Cyril groaned. "God, it was weeks before I could eat meat again. But even to this day I can't eat lamb."

Ray went on as he cooked. "So, you're liking this new tradition we've come up with?"

"Actually, this is a lot better than I thought it would be," Cyril admitted. "Just hanging around, drinking. Having a nice dinner. Again, any party without Archer attending…"

"Just don't ask Cheryl about any family history stories," Ray groaned. "Seriously, some of those Tunt tales make the Red Wedding look like a tea party."

"I will not," Cyril blinked.

"Krieger's here!" Pam called out.

"I'll go get the alcohol," Cyril had finished chopping. "And make sure we're stocked up on bandages." He left the room.

"Guten Tag mien friends!" Krieger walked in loaded with wrapped up packages.

"Hello crazy gaijin!" Mitsuko floated in.

"What is **she** doing here?" Cheryl narrowed her eyes at the hologram.

"You said I couldn't bring Piggly," Krieger pointed out. "You didn't say anything about Mitsuko."

"Or me!" An exact clone of Krieger poked his head in grinning. He was carrying packages too.

"Oh no…" Cyril sighed. "Cue the weirdness right on schedule."

"Wait is that a cyborg robot or…?" Cheryl blinked.

"This is one of my biological clones," Krieger explained. "Aldo Krieger. He has his own brewery in Colorado! In his garage."

"K Brew!" Aldo grinned. "When you wanna keep it fresh!"

"Oh God," Cyril groaned. "Is it weird that I'm getting **used** to this?"

"I think it would be weirder if you weren't," Pam sighed. "Well at least he's not a robot. And he brought booze."

"That's not all we brought!" Krieger put down the package on the table. "Behold the turkey!" He uncovered it for all to see.

The others looked at the turkey. "Couple things…" Cyril blinked. "Krieger I may not be a certified chef but I'm pretty sure a turkey doesn't have **tentacles!** "

"Or six extra-long spindly legs…" Pam blinked. "Krieger what the hell is **this?** "

Krieger grinned. "It's my Tur-Octo-Crab!"

"What the hell is a Tur-Octo…?" Ray began to ask as he walked in. Then he saw it. "GOD DAMN KRIEGER!"

"What?" Both Kriegers said at the same time.

Ray did a double take at the doubles. "Robot or regular clone?" Ray sighed.

"Regular clone," Krieger nodded. "This is Aldo."

"Nice to meet you," Ray said. "Back to my original question…What the hell is **this?** "

"Turkey stuffed with octopus and crab," Krieger explained. "Smothered in bacon! What? It's a traditional Thanksgiving dinner!"

"Maybe at Predator's Thanksgiving but not **here!"** Cyril snapped.

"Krieger this looks like something you'd find on a boss level in Metroid!" Pam told him. "After Samus Aran **barbecued** it."

"It reminds me a little of my Uncle Caldor," Cheryl remarked. "What was left of him after that horrible accident at the aquarium."

"Guys trust me," Krieger waved. "You'll love it. One taste of this and you will never forget it!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ray groaned.

"So, Aldo," Pam turned to the other Krieger. "Got any of that brew handy? Because I think we might need some."

"Yup, yup, yup," Aldo got some out.

"Now it's a holiday," Pam took one and drank it. "Damn that's good!"

"This doesn't have any hallucinogenic effects in it, does it?" Cyril asked as he took one.

"No, that would be in my Krieger Brain Blast Ale," Aldo said. "That's just regular K Brew. But I have the Brain Blast if anyone wants some."

"I'm going to pass on the brain blast and try to spare some brain cells than you very much," Cyril sighed.

"So you're sticking with **regular beer**?" Cheryl snorted. "Good call."

"This from someone who doesn't **have** any brain cells…" Cyril gave her a look.

"You know…?" Cheryl gave him a look.

"Good thing you made all those sides Ray," Pam said.

"I had a feeling we would need them," Ray remarked.

Then the doorbell rang. "Who could that be?" Cyril blinked as he went to get the door.

At the door were several people in black and white uniforms. "Tunt Catering at your service," A blond woman spoke as she and her staff wheeled in carts full of food.

"What in the…?" Cyril did a double take.

"Oh yeah," Cheryl said. "Did I mention I own a catering company out here?"

"You hired **caterers**?" Ray shouted. "God Damn it Cheryl! I've been cooking half the day!"

"I know! HA HA!" Cheryl laughed.

"Look on the bright side," Pam said. "At least we don't have to eat the Tur-Octo-Crab!"

"Awww…" Both Kriegers pouted.

"Okay," Pam sighed. "You guys can still deep fry it if you really want to. Just don't expect us to eat it."

"Yes!" Aldo grinned. "Leftovers for Aldo!"

"What are we going to do with all this food?" Ray asked.

"Hey caterers?" Pam asked. "You guys want to chow down with us?"

"We're still getting paid, right?" One caterer asked.

"Yes," Pam said.

"Then hand me some of that pumpkin pie!" He said cheerfully.

"I want to try what smells so good in the kitchen," A female caterer spoke up.

"That's my sweet potato pie," Ray said. "As well as my sanity."

"I'll have some of that," The female caterer said.

"The sweet potato pie or the sanity?" Cheryl was confused.

"Does it really make a difference at this rate?" Ray groaned as he went in.

Thirty minutes later…

"Ray this sweet potato pie it bitchin'!" Krieger said as he chowed down. He was standing around with Ray, Cyril, Pam and Cheryl eating. "You have got to give me the recipe."

"No problem," Ray ate. He could hear holiday music in the background. "Did someone turn on some music?"

"Deidre's cousin is playing the piano," Cheryl showed them. A young woman was playing the piano in another room.

"Oh," Ray blinked. "One question. Who's Deidre?"

"She's the head caterer or whatever," Cheryl shrugged.

"Apparently some of the caterers called their friends and co-workers," Cyril shrugged as he ate from his plate.

"Not like there isn't plenty of food," Krieger shrugged.

"Or drinks," Cyril remarked.

"I'm taking off my pants!" Someone yelled.

"And that sets the tone of wit and sophistication of the evening," Cyril groaned.

Twenty minutes later…

"Is it me or are there more people here?" Ray asked as he and Cyril looked around the room.

"That could be due to the entertainment I hired," Pam pointed into another room.

Inside another room a group of scantily clad women were dancing around to the hooting and hollering of some of the men inside. "Those strippers I got really liven up a party!" Pam grinned.

"You hired **strippers?** " Ray snapped.

"I had to man," Pam said. "The caterers were getting bored."

"Where did you find them?" Ray asked.

"Cyril has a few on speed dial," Pam remarked.

"I only copied a few numbers from Archer's phone," Cyril pointed out. "Apparently, he's on some kind of discount program. No sense letting those points go to waste…"

"I can't believe strippers work on Thanksgiving," Ray remarked.

"Well a lot of them don't have dental plans," Pam shrugged. "They need the money."

"I guess it's okay as long as we're paying them," Cyril was mesmerized by the scantily clad women. "And I guess they can take home some leftovers too. And this is a time of year to be charitable."

"Only to your dick!" Ray glared at Cyril.

"Speaking of which…" Pam pointed to some scantily clad male strippers entering in the room.

"Sploosh!" Ray and Cheryl said at the same time.

"You're welcome," Pam snorted as she grabbed some more sweet potato pie casserole.

Thirty more minutes later the party was in full swing.

 _"I wanna swing on the chandelieeeeeeeer!"_ A drunken caterer was swinging from a chandelier in the dining room. _"From the chandelieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!"_

"You keep doing that you're gonna **Sia** ambulance!" Another caterer called out. "Get it?"

"Speaking of getting," A man said. "Could someone get me some more sweet potato pie?"

"I'm off the clock," The second caterer remarked.

"I think some mashed potatoes got on the clock," Someone spoke out. "And on the walls. And on the carpet…"

"Twenty-minute food fights are the best!" Someone else cheered.

"I love how this dip feels between my toes!" Aldo called out.

"Me too!" Someone else said.

"Who brought the gravy flavored Jell-O shots?" Cyril called out.

"That would be me!" Aldo cheered.

"Figures…" Cyril groaned.

"Who are all these people?" Ray asked as he walked over to the others.

"I don't know," Pam said. "I thought you invited them."

"I didn't invite them," Ray said. "Cheryl did you invite anyone?"

"I didn't even invite you guys," Cheryl scoffed. "Krieger must have invited them."

"I only invited Aldo," Krieger said. "You guys invited the caterers. And they invited their friends. Who invited their friends…"

"And they invited their friends," Pam and Cheryl said at the same time. "And they invited **their** friends…"

"We get the picture…" Cyril groaned. "We should calm this party down before something gets damaged."

SMASH!

"I'm okay…" The drunk that was swinging on the chandelier warbled.

"Correction," Cyril sighed. "Before **something else** gets damaged!"

"I don't care what happens," Cheryl shrugged. "Not like I live here."

"She does have a point," Pam shrugged.

"Guys you know how our parties have a tendency to get out of control," Cyril said.

"We already had a food fight," Ray wiped some gravy from his shirt. "And that petered out. So…"

"So knowing our luck it could get worse!" Cyril pointed out. "We need to get rid of all these extra people!"

Just then some scantily clad women walked by laughing and drinking.

"On the other hand," Cyril blinked. "Thanksgiving is a time for people to come together."

"Thought you'd say that," Pam snorted.

Thirteen more minutes later…

"I am having the time of my life!" Cyril grinned as he danced with some bikini clad women.

"Where did **they** come from?" Ray asked.

"Who cares?" Cyril shrugged and danced some more.

"Yeah **this** won't end in **disaster**!" Ray groaned.

Then he saw some very handsome men walk by. "On the other hand…" Ray threw away his apron. "Why not have some excitement in my life?" He went after them.

Twenty five minutes later the party was getting even crazier.

"Wheeeee!" Mitsuko flew around the room. "Party! Party! Dance tonight!"

"Has anyone seen my motorcycle?" A man called out.

"I think it's on the roof," Someone else shouted.

"Oh right," The man blinked. "I had trouble finding a parking space."

"Is this a line for the closet to make out or the bathroom?" A woman asked as she stood in a line.

"It's kind of both at this point," A man told her.

"Attention everyone!" Aldo called out. "Do **not** eat the purple dip! Repeat! Do **not** eat the purple dip!"

"Too late…" A man staggered by with a green face.

"I would have thought it was common sense not to eat purple dip," Ray remarked as he walked up to Cyril with Krieger and Pam.

"Me too," Cyril sighed.

"Hey where are those honeys you were dancing with?" Pam asked. "I wanted to bust a groove with them."

"I think they're busting the plumbing of this house," Cyril groaned.

"They ate the purple dip didn't they?" Krieger asked.

"Why did Aldo bring that?" Ray asked.

"He said he thought it would be festive," Krieger shrugged. "He did find it in his fridge."

"BAAAAAHHHH!"

"How did that goat get into the pumpkin pie?" Ray asked.

"It's not one of mine," Krieger said. "In fact I haven't used goats in years."

"This is starting to get out of control," Cyril whimpered.

" **Starting?"** Ray snapped.

"WHOO HOO!" Cheryl was heard shouting. "LOOK AT THAT PURPLE STUFF BURN!"

"I'll get the fire extinguisher," Ray went to put out the fire. "Again…."

"So much for a simple dinner," Cyril groaned.

"YO PAM!"

"G-Money! Big T!" Pam whooped. A group of large men of Hispanic and African ethnicities arrived. They were clearly gang members. "Glad you could make it!"

"Thanks for the invite Poovey," A large black man with a red bandana on his bald head whooped. He was wearing A black T-Shirt and jeans with combat boots. "Now this is a party!"

Everyone looked at Pam. "What? Gang bangers are people too!" Pam protested.

"How do you know these people?" Ray asked. "On second thought don't answer that."

"And cue more complete and total madness…" Cyril grumbled.

Twenty more minutes later…

"One two three la conga!" A couple of strippers and gang members danced around. "One two three la conga!"

"So this is a conga line?" G-Money remarked. "I **love** it!"

"Yeah you wouldn't think you would enjoy a conga line," A male caterer said behind him. "You hear conga line? Sounds totally lame. Until you try it."

"That's exactly how it is!" G-Money said. "Now I know why those drunk dudes do it!"

"And you're holding onto a woman so…" The male caterer asked. "I mean it's nothing against you…"

"No I get it," G-Money said. "Total luck of the draw here."

"Not to say that you're not a great physical specimen," The caterer said. "You obviously work out."

"I do!" G-Money said. "Thank you for noticing!"

"Kind of hard not to," The caterer said. "I mean not that I'm saying it in a gay way or anything…"

"No, no…" G-Money said. "I get it. I get it. So uh…You wanna get a drink after the conga line?"

"Cool," The caterer said.

"Who let this goat into the bathroom?" Someone shouted. "And why is it covered with cheese dip?"

"Has anyone seen my pants?" A man in his underwear shuffled around. "Anybody?"

"I'm a bird! I'm a bird!" Another man in his underwear ran through the room flapping his arms. "I can fly! I believe I can fly!"

He ran out of the door into the porch out back. "I can fly!"

CRASH!

"No, I can't…" He groaned.

"Pants? Anybody?" The underwear man groaned. "Pants?"

"Why is there a horse taking a dump on the lawn?" Someone shouted.

"Because the goat won't get out of the bathroom!" Someone else shouted.

FOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"Is punch supposed to be flammable?" Someone yelled.

"Okay now this party is officially out of control," Pam blinked. "Damn it. I must be sobering up."

"The party started getting out of control when people started to have vomiting contests," Ray remarked as he put down a fire extinguisher. "And then for some reason decided to light them on fire. Now I'm not a doctor or anything y'all…But I'm pretty sure regular vomit doesn't burn purple. Or that fast."

CRASH!

SMASH!

"Now **what?** " Ray groaned.

They went to another room where everyone was surrounding something in a circle. "Fight! Fight! Fight!" They cheered.

"Looks like there's a fight going on," Pam said.

"No?" Cyril said sarcastically. "You **think?"**

"Yes," Pam nodded.

They moved towards the scene and saw two men in business suits going at it with each other. "What is going on here?" Ray asked.

"Here's your quarterly reports Sam!" One man shouted. "In pain!" Before he stomped on Sam's foot.

"That's it Mort!" Sam shouted. "You're about to get dividends in agony!" He slapped Mort hard.

"OWWW!" Mort shouted. He slapped Sam back. They started slapping and kicking each other.

"What the hell?" Cyril asked.

"Oh yeah…" G-Money said. "Sorry about this."

"G-Money what's going on?" Pam asked.

"Oh this Bone Crusher of the Skulls," G-Money pointed to a large black man with blue gear and a huge afro. "Technically this is sort of our fault."

"OW! OW! OW!" Mort and Sam were slapping each other hard.

"See we have this truce between our two gangs but our accountants didn't get the memo…" Bone Crusher explained. "Plus they have this weird rivalry. Usually it works for us but uh…"

"Sorry about this Dudes," G-Money said. "Our bad."

"JUST GO BANKRUPT AND DIE ALREADY!" Mort screamed as the two accountants rolled around.

"YOU DEFAULT FIRST!" Sam shouted back.

"Wait the rival gangs' **accountants** are fighting?" Ray did a double take.

"Gangs have _accountants?_ " Cyril asked.

"Uh yeah," Pam said. "How do you think they manage all that money they earn stealing and doing drug deals?"

"Plus it's handy to diversify our portfolio into stocks and bonds," G-Money said. "And bail money."

"What do you think **you've** been doing all these years?" Cheryl laughed.

"Oh dear god I am…" Cyril groaned. "You invited your accountants to the party?"

"It's in the contract we signed with them," Bone Crusher shrugged. "Hey they got us some good Roth IRA retirement accounts. It was the least we could do."

There was another commotion. "Now what?" Cyril groaned.

"Hang on," Pam said. "I'll go check it out." She left the group.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!" Sam and Mort screamed as they fought.

"It's actually funny to watch them go at it," G-Money shrugged.

"Try to break it up," Cyril groaned. "Please!"

"We would but some of our guys are kind of betting on the fight so…" Bone Crusher shrugged.

"Say no more," Ray sighed. "Come on guys!"

"Ugh it's not even a good fight," Cheryl pouted as they moved away. "They're not even breaking each other's noses."

"I'VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE!" Aldo ran by waving his shirt around. "MUAH HA HA!"

"I think Aldo is into the Brain Blast," Krieger remarked. "Clones. Am I right?"

"This party is getting way out of control," Cyril groaned.

"Gotten Cyril," Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Use your past tense already!"

"Guys we have another little problem," Pam walked up to them.

"Oh what fresh hell is going on now?" Cyril groaned.

"Apparently someone is TP'ing the neighbors' houses," Pam remarked. "Like all of them. On the entire street."

"Oh great…" Cyril groaned.

"And that's not the really bad part," Pam sighed.

"There's a really **bad part**?" Ray asked.

"Yeah," Pam winced. "Some of that toilet paper was used before…"

"EWWW!" Ray, Cyril and Cheryl winced.

"Yeah between that and the vomit all over the place…" Pam shrugged. "The entire street is becoming kind of a mess."

"Your neighbors are not going to be happy with you Cheryl," Krieger said.

"Screw 'em," Cheryl shrugged. "I never met any of them anyway."

THUNK!

"AAAAAAAHHH!" Sam was heard screaming.

"Mort! I told you not to bring the damn stapler!" G-Money shouted.

"That's cheating!" Someone shouted.

"How the hell is a stapler in an accountant fight **cheating?"** Someone else shouted.

"I'm not losing my money over cheating!" Another man shouted.

"Don't be a welsher!" A woman shouted.

"Racist!" The first man shouted.

"And here we go…" Pam groaned as several other guests started to fight.

"Wow," Cheryl laughed. "This is like the best Thanksgiving **ever!** Even better than the year my hateful Aunt Agatha died of a heart attack and passed out in the pumpkin pie!"

Cheryl cocked her head. "I just wish those stupid sirens wouldn't get so loud. They're interrupting my enjoyment of the fighting."

"Sirens?" Ray and Pam asked looking at each other. "Uh oh…"

"Oh great!" Cyril groaned as he saw a swath of flashing lights outside a window. "Here comes the riot squad!"

"And that is our cue to leave the party!" Ray shouted.

"Aren't we **hosting** it?" Cheryl asked.

"Exactly!" Ray said as he started to run away. "Come on!"

"Good idea!" Pam said.

"Out the rear!" Krieger called out.

"Phrasing boom!" Cheryl laughed as they started to run away.

"Come on!" Pam grabbed her and pulled her away.

Soon the gang was outside running with a whole group of other people. "And now we're running from the cops!" Cyril groaned. "This is why I don't spend my holidays with you people!"

"Did I really say this would be like a Hallmark movie?" Pam groaned.

"More like the end of Project X!" Ray groaned. "Yeah there's a shirtless guy riding a horse down the street."

"I think that's Aldo," Krieger blinked.

"And a helicopter flying over us," Cyril blinked as searchlights hit them and the rest of the house.

"I'm going to go look for a getaway car," Ray said. "Be right back." He ran off.

"Damn it! I forgot about Bird-Zilla!" Pam shouted.

"It should be fine," Krieger said. "I added some special spices to it about twenty minutes ago."

"What kind of special spices?" Pam asked.

"Just the normal ones you add to a turkey when you take it out of the freezer," Krieger waved as he ran.

"What do you think he put on that thing?" Cyril asked.

"Probably something radioactive knowing him," Pam sighed.

"Oooh! Taste the radiation!" Cheryl giggled.

"That's not a good thing Cheryl," Cyril groaned.

CRASH!

"And neither is that," Cyril winced as someone drove a car into the side of the house.

"Hope that's not Ray," Krieger winced.

"Nope," Ray ran back. "Found your van Krieger. Come on!"

"Aww," Krieger pouted. "And I just put my tur-octo-crab in the deep fryer after taking it out of the freezer."

"It's not like anybody else is going to eat it!" Pam snapped. "Not even me!"

"Wait you're not supposed to put the turkey in the freezer if you deep fry it!" Ray realized. "That's going to make it…"

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"Explode upwards?" Cyril winced.

"Yeah…" Ray winced. "Oh boy…Right through the roof. Just like my Uncle Paw-Paw's cookout all over again."

KA-THUNK-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"Oh my God!" Cyril shouted.

"That must be the first time in history a helicopter was shot down by an unidentified flying turkey," Ray blinked.

"Second actually," Cheryl shrugged. "Long story."

BOOOOOOOM! CRASH!

Krieger blinked. "Wow that helicopter made a big crash didn't it?"

"Oh the humanity!" Cyril shouted.

"That's what you say for blimps!" Cheryl scoffed. "Not helicopters!"

"I think that's universal for all airborne disasters," Pam told her.

"As well as all our party disasters," Ray groaned.

"And here come the cops," Cyril gulped. "Bringing the riot squad with them."

"Ray you said you found Krieger's van?" Pam asked.

"Yup," Ray nodded. "Parked on someone else's lawn."

"Then let's use it!" Pam said as she grabbed a squealing Cheryl. "Come on Skinny Minnie!"

"But I want to see everything burn!" Cheryl pouted as they started to run.

"SHUT UP AND RUN!" Pam shouted as they ran from the police.

"I hate my life…" Cyril moaned.

An hour later in a seedy bar somewhere in LA…

"The flames are finally dying down at this Malibu home," Reporter Darlene Love stood in front of a charred house. "The site of what has already been dubbed the Thanksgiving Day Riot."

"Oh God…" Cyril groaned as he sat on a barstool holding a drink in his hand. His shirt was rumpled and he looked hung over. Next to him in order was Ray, Krieger, Pam and Cheryl. They were watching a television over the bar.

"Over fifty people were arrested on charges ranging from disturbing the peace to assault to arson," Darlene reported. "Twenty people had to be sent to the hospital with injuries. Including one man who had a stapler in his eye."

"Damn," Pam whistled. "That Mort is one viscous accountant."

A cell phone shot of Krieger's culinary creation sailing through the roof and destroying the helicopter was shown. "A police helicopter was brought down using some kind of incendiary device," Darlene replied. "Authorities however have called it too soon to label this a domestic terrorist incident."

"Oh dear lord," Cyril groaned.

"The helicopter pilot who miraculously survived with only several broken bones and second-degree burns described the object as something Predator would have at Thanksgiving," Darlene went on. "Officials from the government's eco-terrorism unit are investigating."

"Oh God…" Cyril wailed.

"Oh God!" Krieger wailed. "There go all the plans I had for the leftovers."

"At least six people are now confirmed dead," Darlene's voice was shown over another cell phone picture of a familiar bearded man riding a horse without a shirt on.

"Is that Aldo?" Ray asked.

"HA HA HA HA!" Aldo cackled madly.

WHAM!

He and the horse was smashed by a piece of flaming helicopter debris. "Including this unknown man," Darlene was heard again.

"Yeah that was definitely Aldo," Krieger winced.

"Sorry for your loss," Ray sighed.

"Don't be," Krieger said. "I'm his beneficiary on his life insurance policy so…Hey! I just made over thirty thousand dollars! Merry Thanksgiving to me!"

Ray gave him a look. "This is how you fund a lot of your projects isn't it?"

"It doesn't happen **that** often," Krieger shrugged. "Usually they die before they get insured. But when it does…Ka-ching!"

"YEAH KA-CHING!" Cheryl laughed before drinking some more scotch from a bottle.

"How many has she had?" Krieger blinked.

"Well she had at least six and some groovy gummies back at the party," Pam observed. "So…Yeah. She's wasted."

"Wow," Ray blinked as he watched the devastation on the TV. "We made Black Friday look tame."

"That did **not** go as planned," Pam winced.

"You **think**?" Ray snapped.

"We're lucky we didn't get arrested!" Cyril groaned. "And we have enough problems in this town!"

"Technically this is Malibu not LA so…" Pam corrected.

"So let's recap our day," Cyril groaned. "We went to Malibu to one of Cheryl's secret beach houses to have a Thanksgiving dinner. Which quickly turned into a party complete with strippers and a Krieger clone. That party turned into a rave. The rave turned into a riot. The house burned down. A helicopter was shot down by our turkey."

"People died," Ray added. "An accountant lost an eye…"

Cyril finished. "And we barely escaped with our lives. And now we're in a bar…"

"And on top of it all," Ray added. "Neither Archer or his mother are here."

"Best Thanksgiving **ever!"** Cheryl squealed before she passed out and fell to the floor.

"Oh my god," Cyril blinked. "This **was** my best Thanksgiving ever!"

"Beats a damn parade that's for sure!" Ray took a drink.


End file.
